Attention Seeker

When I did my clinical rotations in Psych, it was always easy to pick out the attention seekers. That guy that would yell PENISSS from across the room during group therapy or the girl that would constantly jump up and down the entire way from the cafeteria to the gym. Attention seekers. 

Why have I been in denial that there is one living in my household? Not B of course. That child is made of gold and comes straight from candyland. No flaws or imperfections. Although I'm searching long and hard for them. I'm talking about this gem. 

See those eyes. Don't let them fool you. He loves cameras. He acts like he hates them but when you break away he dies for more. Total attention seeking behavior, am I right? 

Now with humans, it's easy to deal with crazy penis behavior. You just ignore it! You don't pay attention to that shit. You don't react. It never happened. But it's hard to not react. It's like keeping a straight face when someone farts during quiet reading time. Close to impossible. It's even more impossible when the attention seeking behavior draws blood from your freaking arm. Sperrys signature move. Who wouldn't react to a nice hard paw, slashing through every ligament on the way down. 

I asked my vet what to do about this. Her answer, buy the claw protectors from petsmart. It's like a gel pad that fits over their nails. That seems silly to me but then again my only solution to seeking behavior thus far is ignoring.  That's getting near impossible considering tears and an occasional "FREAK OF NATURE" in all caps for a reason is not the quietest of reactions. 

My selfish fear? I'm going to be all tattooed up in claw markings for my wedding. I need to nip this in the bud quickly. Any ideas on how?

Number 23

I'm not fond of the number 23, I've never been. Don't know what it is about that number. Maybe it's just the way it looks. I feel like its an old age. I'd rather be 24. I think that sounds younger. 

Every birthday up until this one I've always wished to be older. Looking forward to the increasing number. Not this one. 

The day of my 23rd birthday was filled with a lot of old things. I woke up at 6:30 am. On my day off. And this, was sleeping in. I ate quinoa for breakfast. As my best friend Katie put it "your going to need to start beginning your day with fiber from now on", thanks friend, just trying to, you know, keep myself regular. I then went on a walk, not to the gym, a walk outdoors...around the neighborhood. Thankfully I haven't advanced yet into all white tennis shoes with a thick sole. I finished my afternoon shopping. What did I buy you ask? Soap. For the kitchen sink. Old. 

Katie encouraged me to stay out past my 9 o'clock bedtime. I was set on closing the bars down. Not letting a drink get me tired.  How did I handle the alcohol? Like a train smashed into my aging body and the caboose did a double take on the way out. 

So sweet Brice made me a smoothie this morning as I got out of bed in slow motion. We're headed to the lake now for some 4th of July festivities. No car talk about the heat outside, grease, and most importantly cheese, even though I want cheese, so the conversation is limited. We stopped at the gas station for some saltines. They tasted disgusting. Old. Just like me. 

Thanks for reading passed my run on sentences and nagging. I can't wait to be 24 and young again but I'm 100% positive that this will be the best year yet.